The hanging tree.

The hanging tree…

In 1991, I needed nothing, I wanted nothing. I was seeking the good death.

A pretty lady with the saddest eyes in Michigan, she asked me. What are seeking Johnnie?

You want death and the hanging tree is always waiting for us,

wanting and needing nothing. Death will find us.

I told her, sweet lady, kind lady. We are just flesh and bones seeking the flesh,

seeking the whiskey and waiting for death to take us. We have turned cold, so damn cold.

We don’t seek love, no-more.

Once I search for God,

once I searched for the Devil.

I learn, we can’t change a world,

that doesn’t want to be changed.

The world is seeking death and the good things are hanging in silence

on the hanging tree.

She was still a beauty and I could see in her eyes. Hopeful glances,

that I could make her smile. Her eyes filled with the heaviness of sadness,

her voice begging for pieces of kindness.

We could talk and when the whiskey kicked in and we would find the cheap motel.

She would whisper to me. Please be kind, please make me believe. 

I am special, I am beautiful.

We would found each other on the loneliness of night,

tried to create passion with whiskey kisses and we grasped at tenderness.

I told her on a September night. We cannot be.

You have a life and I cannot steal you away.

Somehow we found the place where we are seeking the hanging tree.

Where we cannot be. I a sorry my dear love.

We are reaching for a miracle, that cannot be.

I saw in her eyes. I taught her. Love wasn’t her blessing.

I remember our last kisses and her hunger to know the kindness of gentle hands.

She left Michigan and she found the hanging tree in Nevada.

Love had broke her and she gave in to the drugs and greed.

She died alone.

In 1993, I went to Reno and I found the hanging tree.

I sat by a lonely grave and I told the night.

Please kind friend, please my kind lover.

I pray you found peace.

Coyote